


All You Wanted

by Virginia Borderlands (murielofdelphi)



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/M, Family Issues, One sided Tris Prior/Four
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murielofdelphi/pseuds/Virginia%20Borderlands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tobias Eaton abandoned his little sister Tris Eaton when he switched factions. The family reunites, but some wounds are hard to heal, and Tris doesn't want to listen to him. The moment he told her to watch out for Eric is the moment she made a plan of revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything of the divergent series. For the First chapter I borrowed a couple of many paragraphs from the first couple chapters of Divergent to set the premises. Next chapter will be all original. Ratings may change later. I may forget I even wrote this.

_Chapter One CHOOSING_

I stand between Caleb Prior and Danielle Pohler, an Amity girl with rosy cheeks and a yellow dress. Rows of chairs for our families make up the next circle. They are arranged in five sections, according to faction. Not everyone in each faction comes to the Choosing Ceremony, but enough of them come that the crowd looks huge. The responsibility to conduct the ceremony rotates from faction to faction each year, and this year is Abnegation’s. Marcus will give the opening address and read the names in reverse alphabetical order. I will choose before Caleb. In the last circle are five metal bowls so large they could hold my entire body, if I curled up. Each one contains a substance that represents each faction: gray stones for Abnegation, water for Erudite, earth for Amity, lit coals for Dauntless, and glass for Candor. My gaze does not focus on the bowls. I am lost in another time.

 

 

_“Tobias Eaton,” says Marcus. Tobias_ _casts a long look at me from where I sit in the crowd. I watch him with sad eyes. I watch his feet move to the center of the room, and his hands, steady as they accept the knife from our father, are deft as one presses the knife into the other. Then he stands with blood pooling in his palm, and his lip snags on his teeth. He breathes out. And then in. He has made his decision. He will stay in Abnegation and protect me from father. And then he holds his hand over the Dauntless bowl, and his blood drips onto the burning coals. I hear mutters that lift into outraged cries. I can barely think straight. My brother...my selfless brother...He left ME?!_

_My brother, born for Abnegation, Dauntless? When I close my eyes, I see all the times he fought father to protect me and mother, and his shaking hands sliding along his legs after the aptitude test. Why didn’t I realize that when he told me to think of myself yesterday, he was also giving that advice to himself? Was he trying to make me feel guilty for all the beatings he took in my stead? Was this his revenge; Leaving me with an enraged and shamed Marcus Eaton four years before my own choosing ceremony, I would be lucky if I survived tonight!_

_The Abnegation, normally so placid, speak to one another in tense whispers and glare across the room at the faction that has become our enemy. “Excuse me,” says Marcus, but the crowd doesn’t hear him. He shouts, “Quiet, please!” The room goes silent. His face doesn't betray his real emotions._

The first girl to choose decides on Amity, the same faction from which she came. I watch her blood droplets fall on soil, and she stands behind their seats alone. The room is constantly moving, a new name and a new person choosing, a new knife and a new choice. I recognize most of them, but I doubt they know me. “James Tucker,” Marcus says. James Tucker of the Dauntless is the first person to stumble on his way to the bowls. He throws his arms out and regains his balance before hitting the floor. His face turns red and he walks fast to the middle of the room. When he stands in the center, he looks from the Dauntless bowl to the Candor bowl—the orange flames that rise higher each moment, and the glass reflecting blue light. Marcus offers him the knife. He breathes deeply—I watch his chest rise—and, as he exhales, accepts the knife. Then he drags it across his palm with a jerk and holds his arm out to the side. His blood falls onto glass, and he is the first of us to switch factions. The first faction transfer. A mutter rises from the Dauntless section, and I stare at the floor. They will see him as a traitor from now on. His Dauntless family will have the option of visiting him in his new faction, a week and a half from now on Visiting Day, but they won’t, because he left them. His absence will haunt their hallways, and he will be a space they can’t fill. And then time will pass, and the hole will be gone, like when an organ is removed and the body’s fluids flow into the space it leaves. Humans can’t tolerate emptiness for long.

I look for Tobias in the Dauntless section. He is not there. He has abandoned me again. Just like on visiting day, when I escaped Marcus's eye long enough to go see him. He refused to see me. My footsteps falter. If Tobias wasn’t fit for Abnegation, how can I be? But what choice do I have, since he left me, and I’m the only one who remains? He left me no other option. I set my jaw. I will be the child that stays; I have to do this for my father. I have to. Marcus offers me my knife. I look into his eyes—they are dark blue, a strange color—and take it. He nods, and I turn toward the bowls.

Dauntless fire and Abnegation stones are both on my left, one in front of my shoulder and one behind. I hold the knife in my right hand and touch the blade to my palm. Gritting my teeth, I drag the blade down. It stings, but I barely notice. I hold both hands to my chest, and my next breath shudders on the way out. I open my eyes and thrust my arm out. My blood drips onto the carpet between the two bowls. Then, with a gasp I can’t contain, I shift my hand forward, and my blood sizzles on the coals. I am not brave. I am afraid of my father. I am angry. I will go where he can not tread. 

 


	2. CHOSEN

The Dauntless are the first to leave. I walk past the gray-clothed men and women who were my faction, staring at the back of someone’s head, refusing to look at them. But I have to see my Dad one more time. I look over my shoulder at the last second before I pass him, and immediately wish I hadn’t. My father’s eyes burn into mine with a look of accusation and rage. At first, when I feel the heat behind my eyes, I don't understand why I should be crying. Survivors guilt maybe? But with each step away my shoulders sag in relief. I am free. There will be no more pain. The people behind me press me forward, away from my father, who will be one the last ones to leave. The other Abnegation may even stay to stack the chairs and clean the bowls. It is a selfless act. To clean up after all the others. But you can only clean something so many times before you don't want to anymore.

I twist my head around to find Caleb Prior, the second Abnegation transfer, in the crowd of Erudite behind me. He stands among the other initiates, shaking hands with a faction transfer, a boy who was Candor. The easy smile he wears, reminds me of three years ago when Tobias left me. He'd been smiling nervously and shaking other Dauntless hands. My stomach wrenches and I turn away. I will learn to stop being selfless and learn to be brave.

The crowd of Dauntless leading us go to the stairs instead of the elevators. I thought only the Abnegation used the stairs. Then everyone starts running. I hear whoops and shouts and laughter all around me, and dozens of thundering feet moving at different rhythms. It is not a selfless act for the Dauntless to take the stairs; it is a wild act. The thought of the Dauntless using the elevator makes me laugh, the inside would be destroyed before it even reached the destination. I start running.

“What the hell is going on?” the boy next to me shouts. I cannot answer him, I am too busy trying to breathe and move hard and fast up the stairs, I am breathless when we reach the first floor, and the Dauntless burst through the exit. Outside, the air is crisp and cold, feeling like heaven upon my sweaty face and searing lungs, and the sky is orange from the setting sun. It reflects off the black glass of the Hub. The Dauntless sprawl across the street, blocking the path of a bus, and I sprint to catch up to the back of the crowd. My confusion dissipates as I run. I have not run anywhere in a long time. Abnegation discourages anything done strictly for my own enjoyment, and that is what this is: my lungs burning, my muscles aching, the fierce pleasure of a flat-out sprint. I follow the Dauntless down the street and around the corner and hear a familiar sound: the train horn.

“Oh no,” mumbles the Erudite boy. “Are we supposed to hop on that thing?”

“Yes,” I say, breathless.Remembering all the times I watched the Dauntless arriving and leaving the school. The crowd spreads out in a long line. The train glides toward us on steel rails, its light flashing, its horn blaring. The door of each car is open, waiting for the Dauntless to pile in, and they do, group by group, until only the new initiates are left. The Dauntlessborn initiates are used to doing this by now, so in a second it’s just faction transfers left. I step forward with a few others and start jogging. We run with the car for a few steps and then throw ourselves sideways. I’m not as tall or as strong as some of them, so I can’t pull myself into the car. I cling to a handle next to the doorway, my shoulder slamming into the car. My arms shake and the skin under my fingers feels like its being pulled off, and finally a Candor girl grabs me and pulls me in. Gasping, I thank her. I hear a shout and look over my shoulder. A short Erudite boy with red hair pumps his arms as he tries to catch up to the train. An Erudite girl by the door reaches out to grab the boy’s hand, straining, but he is too far behind. He falls to his knees next to the tracks as we sail away, and puts his head in his hands. I feel uneasy. He just failed Dauntless initiation. He is factionless now. It could happen at any moment.

“You all right?” the Candor girl who helped me asks briskly. She is tall, with dark brown skin and short hair. Pretty. I nod. “I’m Christina,” she says, offering me her hand. I haven’t shaken a hand in a long time either. The Abnegation greeted one another by bowing heads, a sign of respect. I take her hand, uncertainly, and shake it twice, hoping I didn’t squeeze too hard or not hard enough.

“Beatrice,” I say.

“Do you know where we’re going?” She has to shout over the wind, which blows harder through the open doors by the second. The train is picking up speed. I sit down. It will be easier to keep my balance if I’m low to the ground. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“A fast train means wind,” I say. “Wind means falling out. Get down.” Christina sits next to me, inching back to lean against the wall. “I guess we’re going to Dauntless headquarters,” I say, “but I don’t know where that is.” I lied. I know where the normal front entrance is, but I have a feeling that we won't be going that way.

“Does anyone?” She shakes her head, grinning. “It’s like they just popped out of a hole in the ground or something.”

Then the wind rushes through the car, and the other faction transfers, hit with bursts of air, fall on top of one another. I watch Christina laugh without hearing her and manage a smile. Over my left shoulder, orange light from the setting sun reflects off the glass buildings, and I can faintly see the rows of gray houses that used to be my home. Father will be making his own dinner tonight, and he will have no one to growl and strike at, his hands wont grab my arms and lead me to _that_ room.

“They’re jumping off!” I lift my head. My neck aches. I have been curled up with my back against the wall for at least a half hour, listening to the roaring wind and watching the city smear past us. I sit forward. The train has slowed down in the past few minutes, and I see that the boy who shouted is right: The Dauntless in the cars ahead of us are jumping out as the train passes a rooftop. The tracks are seven stories up. The idea of leaping out of a moving train onto a rooftop, knowing there is a gap between the edge of the roof and the edge of the track, makes me want to throw up. I push myself up and stumble to the opposite side of the car, where the other faction transfers stand in a line.

“We have to jump off too, then,” a Candor girl says. She has a large nose and crooked teeth.

“Great,” a Candor boy replies, “because that makes perfect sense, Molly. Leap off a train onto a roof.”

“This is kind of what we signed up for, Peter,” the girl points out.

“Well, I’m not doing it,” says an Amity boy behind me. He has olive skin and wears a brown shirt—he is the only transfer from Amity. His cheeks shine with tears.

“You’ve got to,” Christina says, “or you fail. Come on, it’ll be all right.”

“No, it won’t! I’d rather be factionless than dead!” The Amity boy shakes his head. He sounds panicky. He keeps shaking his head and staring at the rooftop, which is getting closer by the second. I don’t agree with him. I would rather be dead than empty, like the factionless. I would rather be somewhere where my father cannot reach me. 

“You can’t force him,” I say, glancing at Christina. Her brown eyes are wide, and she presses her lips together so hard they change color.

She offers me her hand. “Here,” she says. I raise an eyebrow at her hand, about to say that I don’t need help, but she adds, “I just…can’t do it unless someone drags me.”

I take her hand and we stand at the edge of the car. As it passes the roof, I count, “One…two…three!” On three we launch off the train car. A weightless moment, and then my feet slam into solid ground and pain prickles through my shins. The jarring landing sends me sprawling on the rooftop, gravel under my cheek. I release Christina’s hand. She’s laughing.

“That was fun,” she says. Christina will fit in with Dauntless thrill seekers. I brush grains of rock from my cheek. All the initiates except the Amity boy made it onto the roof, with varying levels of success. The Candor girl with crooked teeth, Molly, holds her ankle, wincing, and Peter, the Candor boy with shiny hair, grins proudly—he must have landed on his feet. Then I hear a wail. I turn my head, searching for the source of the sound. A Dauntless girl stands at the edge of the roof, staring at the ground below, screaming. Behind her a Dauntless boy holds her at the waist to keep her from falling off.

“Rita,” he says. “Rita, calm down. Rita—” I stand up and look over the edge. There is a body on the pavement below us; a girl, her arms and legs bent at awkward angles, her hair spread in a fan around her head. My stomach sinks and I stare at the railroad tracks. Not everyone made it. And even the Dauntless aren’t safe. Rita sinks to her knees, sobbing. I turn away. The longer I watch her, the more likely I am to cry, and I can’t cry in front of these people. I hate seeing emotional people getting worked up because it makes me get worked up.

I tell myself, as sternly as possible, that Danger is how things work here. We do dangerous things and people die. People die, and we move on to the next dangerous thing. The sooner that lesson sinks in, the better chance I have at surviving initiation. I’m no longer sure that I will survive initiation. I tell myself I will count to three, and when I’m done, I will move on. One. I picture the girl’s body on the pavement, and a shudder goes through me. Two. I hear Rita’s sobs and the murmured reassurance of the boy behind her. Three. My lips pursed, I walk away from Rita and the roof’s edge. My elbow stings. I pull my sleeve up to examine it, my hand shaking. Some of the skin is peeling off, but it isn’t bleeding.

“Ooh. Scandalous! A Stiff’s flashing some skin!” I lift my head. “Stiff” is slang for Abnegation, and I’m the only one here. Peter points at me, smirking. I hear laughter. My cheeks heat up, and I let my sleeve fall.

“Listen up! My name is Max! I am one of the leaders of your new faction!” shouts a man at the other end of the roof. He is older than the others, with deep creases in his dark skin and gray hair at his temples, and he stands on the ledge like it’s a sidewalk. Like someone didn’t just fall to her death from it. “Several stories below us is the members’ entrance to our compound. If you can’t muster the will to jump off, you don’t belong here. Our initiates have the privilege of going first.”

“You want us to jump off a ledge?” asks an Erudite girl. She is a few inches taller than I am, with mousy brown hair and big lips. Her mouth hangs open. I don’t know why it shocks her.

“Yes,” Max says. He looks amused.

“Is there water at the bottom or something?”

“Who knows?” He raises his eyebrows. The crowd in front of the initiates splits in half, making a wide path for us. I look around. No one looks eager to leap off the building—their eyes are everywhere but on Max. Some of them nurse minor wounds or brush gravel from their clothes. I glance at Peter. He is picking at one of his cuticles. Trying to act casual.

I am proud. It will get me into trouble someday, but today it makes me brave. I walk toward the ledge and hear snickers behind me.

_"What do you think your doing?"_

Max steps aside, leaving my way clear.

_"Do I have to teach you a lesson again?" Marcus hissed, his hands fumbling around at his waist for his belt. I stumble back and beg him 'please, no, i forgot,'_

I walk up to the edge and look down.

_Belt strikes my side, I flinch violently with every strike, but I keep my hands up to guard my face. I have learned my lesson on what happens when the belt strikes my face. Tomorrow I will go into school and if anyone asked I was carrying something to heavy and tripped over a rock and fell down some steps. They will wish me better luck and less suffering, to them I have been clumsy ever since Tobias left._

Wind whips through my clothes, making the fabric snap.

An Idea flits though my mind and I do not stop to think about the consequences. I will show them.

The building I’m on forms one side of a square with three other buildings. In the center of the square is a huge hole in the concrete. I can’t see what’s at the bottom of it. This is a scare tactic. I will land safely at the bottom. That knowledge is the only thing that helps me step onto the ledge.

My teeth chatter. I can’t back down now. Not with all the people betting I’ll fail behind me. My hands fumble along the collar of my shirt and find the button that secures it shut.

After a few tries, I undo the hooks from collar to hem, and pull it off my shoulders. Beneath it, I wear a gray T-shirt. It is tighter than any other clothes I own, and no one has ever seen me in it before. I ball up my outer shirt and look over my shoulder, at Peter. I throw the ball of fabric at him as hard as I can, my jaw clenched. It hits him in the chest. He stares at me. He sees the bruises and scars. Or maybe he doesn't because he is too shocked by my actions to see a 'naked stiff'. It does not matter, they will see them later, I will bare them to the world. I hear catcalls and shouts behind me. I look at the hole again. Goose bumps rise on my pale arms, and my stomach lurches. If I don’t do it now, I won’t be able to do it at all. I swallow hard. I don’t think. I just bend my knees and jump.

The air howls in my ears as the ground surges toward me, growing and expanding, or I surge toward the ground, my heart pounding so fast it hurts, every muscle in my body tensing as the falling sensation drags at my stomach. The hole surrounds me and I drop into darkness. I hit something hard. It gives way beneath me and cradles my body. The impact knocks the wind out of me and I wheeze, struggling to breathe again. My arms and legs sting. A net. There is a net at the bottom of the hole. I look up at the building and laugh, half relieved and half hysterical. My body shakes and I cover my face with my hands. I just jumped off a roof. I have to stand on solid ground again. I see a few hands stretching out to me at the edge of the net, so I grab the first one I can reach and pull myself across. I roll off, and I would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if he had not caught me.

“He” is the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color. His hands grip my arms, but he releases me a moment after I stand upright again. He looks very familiar. Something about his eyes.

“Thank you,” I say. We stand on a platform ten feet above the ground. Around us is an open cavern.

“Can’t believe it,” a voice says from behind him. It belongs to a dark-haired girl with three silver rings through her right eyebrow. She smirks at me. “A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of.”

“There’s a reason why she left them, Lauren,” he says. His voice is deep, and it rumbles. “What’s your name?” But I recogizie hie voice although it is deeper then before. Tobias stands in front of me, and he doesn't recognize me.

“Um…” I don’t know why I hesitate. “Beatrice” was the name father gave me. "Tris" was the name he gave me.

“Think about it,” he says, a faint smile curling his lips. “You don’t get to pick again.” A new place, a new name. I can be remade here.

I am not Marcus's anymore. I am not Tobias's anymore. I am me. 

“Mazor,” I say firmly.

“Mazor,” Lauren repeats, grinning. “Make the announcement, Four.”

Tobias—Four—looks over his shoulder and shouts, “First jumper—Mazor!” A crowd materializes from the darkness as my eyes adjust. They cheer and pump their fists, and then another person drops into the net. Her screams follow her down. Christina. Everyone laughs, but they follow their laughter with more cheering. Four sets his hand on my back and says, “Welcome to Dauntless.”


	3. Chapter 3

When all the initiates have made it down to solid ground again, Lauren and Four lead us down a narrow tunnel. The walls are made of stone, and the ceiling slopes, so I feel like I am descending deep into the heart of the earth. The tunnel is lit at long intervals, so in the dark space between each dim lamp, I fear that I am lost until a shoulder bumps mine. In the circles of light I am safe again. Tobias-Four hasn't turned back around, he hasn't recognized me yet. The Erudite boy in front of me stops abruptly, and I smack into him, hitting my nose on his shoulder. I stumble back and rub my nose as I recover my senses. The whole crowd has stopped, and our three leaders stand in front of us, arms folded.

“This is where we divide,” Lauren says. “The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume you don’t need a tour of the place.” She smiles and beckons toward the Dauntless-born initiates. They break away from the group and dissolve into the shadows. I watch the last heel pass out of the light and look at those of us who are left. Most of the initiates were from Dauntless, so only nine people remain. Of those, I am the only Abnegation transfer, and the only Amity transfer chose to be factionless. The rest are from Erudite and, surprisingly, Candor.

It must require bravery to be honest all the time. I wouldn’t know. I have not been allowed to speak my thoughts since Mother died. Four addresses us next. “Most of the time I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks, I am your instructor,” he says. “My name is Four.”

Christina smiles at me, then turns back to him and asks, “Four? Like the number?”

“Yes,” Four says. “Is there a problem?”

“No.”

“Good. We’re about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—”

Christina snickers. “The Pit? Clever name.”

Four walks up to Christina and leans his face close to hers. His eyes narrow, and for a second he just stares at her. “What’s your name?” he asks quietly.

“Christina,” she squeaks.

“Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction,” he hisses. “The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?” She nods. Four starts toward the shadow at the end of the tunnel. The crowd of initiates moves on in silence.

“What a jerk,” she mumbles.

“I guess he doesn’t like to be laughed at,” I reply. It would probably be wise to be careful around Four, I realize. He seemed placid to me on the platform, but something about that stillness makes me think of Marcus. I will be wary around Tobias, after all, Father had been nice and gentle once too.

Four pushes a set of double doors open, and we walk into the place he called “the Pit.”

“Oh,” whispers Christina. “I get it.”

“Pit” is the best word for it. It is an underground cavern so huge I can’t see the other end of it from where I stand, at the bottom. Uneven rock walls rise several stories above my head. Built into the stone walls are places for food, clothing, supplies, leisure activities. Narrow paths and steps carved from rock connect them. There are no barriers to keep people from falling over the side. A slant of orange light stretches across one of the rock walls. Forming the roof of the Pit are panes of glass and, above them, a building that lets in sunlight. It must have looked like just another city building when we passed it on the train. Blue lanterns dangle at random intervals above the stone paths, similar to the ones that lit the Choosing room. They grow brighter as the sunlight dies. People are everywhere, all dressed in black, all shouting and talking, expressive, gesturing. I don’t see any elderly people in the crowd. Are there any old Dauntless? Do they not last that long, or are they just sent away when they can’t jump off moving trains anymore? A group of children run down a narrow path with no railing, so fast my heart pounds, and I want to scream at them to slow down before they get hurt. A memory of the orderly Abnegation streets appears in my mind: a line of people on the right passing a line of people on the left, small smiles and inclined heads and silence. My stomach squeezes. But there is something wonderful about Dauntless chaos. 

My heart pounds along with their wild joy.

“If you follow me,” says Four, “I’ll show you the chasm.” He waves us forward. Four’s appearance seemed tamed when I first saw him, as if nothing had changed and he had only grew into his height and gained muscles, but when he turns around, I see a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his T-shirt. I am shocked. Tobias Eaton got a tattoo, Dad will be furious...Marcus doesn't matter anymore though. He is not here. He will never come here. He will most likely never look me in the eye ever again. I am free to do what I want. I can get a tattoo even if I wanted. The thought lingers in the back of my mind as I follow the group.

He leads us to the right side of the Pit, which is conspicuously dark. I squint and see that the floor I stand on now ends at an iron barrier. As we approach the railing, I hear a roar—water, fast-moving water, crashing against rocks. I look over the side. The floor drops off at a sharp angle, and several stories below us is a river. Gushing water strikes the wall beneath me and sprays upward. To my left, the water is calmer, but to my right, it is white, battling with rock. “The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!” Four has to shout to be heard. “A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You’ve been warned.”

“This is incredible,” says Christina, as we all move away from the railing.

“Incredible...yeah, that's one way to describe it,” I say, nodding. Four leads the group of initiates across the Pit toward a gaping hole in the wall. Dauntless Architecture makes me wonder who built it or better yet, who destroyed it first and then decided to build around it.

The room beyond is well-lit enough that I can see where we’re going: a dining hall full of people and clattering silverware. When we walk in, the Dauntless inside stand. They applaud. They stamp their feet. They shout. The noise surrounds me and fills me. Christina smiles, and a second later, so do I. We look for empty seats. Christina and I discover a mostly empty table at the side of the room, and I find myself sitting between her and Four. In the center of the table is a platter of food I don’t recognize: circular pieces of meat wedged between round bread slices. I pinch one between my fingers, unsure what to make of it.

Four nudges me with his elbow. “It’s beef,” he says. “Put this on it.” He passes me a small bowl full of red sauce.

“You’ve never had a hamburger before?” asks Christina, her eyes wide.

“No,” I say. “Is that what it’s called?”

“Stiffs eat plain food,” Four says, nodding at Christina.

“Why?” she asks.

I shrug. “Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary.”

She smirks. “No wonder you left.”

“Yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It was just because of the food.” The corner of Four’s mouth twitches, and then he frowns examining my face, I catch his eye before I am distracted by someone new entering the hall. The doors to the cafeteria opened, and a hush falls over the room. I look over my shoulder. A young man walks in, and it is quiet enough that I can hear his footsteps. His face is pierced in so many places I lose count, and his hair is short and sleeked back, the sides shaven, it is a bright blonde. But that isn’t what makes him look menacing. It is the coldness of his eyes as they sweep across the room.

“Who’s that?” hisses Christina.

“His name is Eric,” says Four. “He’s a Dauntless leader.”

“Seriously? But he’s so young.”

Four gives her a grave look. “Age doesn’t matter here.” I can tell she’s about to ask what I want to ask: Then what does matter? But Eric’s eyes stop scanning the room, and he starts toward a table. He must have spotted someone he wanted to talk to because he turns toward our table and drops into the seat next to Four. He offers no greeting, so neither do we. His muscles look even bigger up close, the sleeveless muscle tee helps, and I wonder if they would be as firm as they look. My face flushes hot for a second as I scold myself to stop thinking about it.

_"Bee...One day, you'll start to like boys,--"_

_"But mom, I don't wanna like boys!"_

_Mother laughed._

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asks, nodding to Christina and me.

Four says, “This is Tris--I mean Mazor and Christina.”

“Ooh, a Stiff,” says Eric, smirking at me, he heard Tobias's slip up. He knows that Tobias knows me from Abnegation somehow. His smile pulls at the piercings in his lips, making the holes they occupy wider, and I wonder if it hurt to get them--of course it did, stupid, but how long did it take to heal and stop hurting? “We’ll see how long you last.”

I mean to say something—to assure him that I will last, maybe—but words fail me. I don’t understand why, but I don’t want Eric to look at me any longer than he already has. I don’t want him to look at me ever again. He taps his fingers against the table. His knuckles are scabbed over, right where they would split if he punched something too hard. “What have you been doing lately, Four?” he asks.

Four lifts a shoulder. “Nothing, really,” he says. Are they friends? My eyes flick between Eric and Four. Everything Eric did—sitting here, asking about Four— suggests that they are, but the way Four sits, tense as pulled wire the same way he looked around Marcus, suggests they are something else. Rivals, maybe, but how could that be, if Eric is a leader and Four is not?

“Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don’t show up,” Eric says. “He requested that I find out what’s going on with you.”

Four looks at Eric for a few seconds before saying, “Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold.”

“So he wants to give you a job.” The rings in Eric’s eyebrow catch the light. Maybe Eric perceives Four as a potential threat to his position. Mr Prior says that those who want power and get it live in terror of losing it. That’s why we have to give power to those who do not want it. Marcus had nodded.

_"Who does he think he's talking to? I'm in charge! I am the leader of Abnegation," Marcus growled, throwing his cup at the wall. It hit and bounced back a bit and landed on the floor. I go to pick it up, praying it didn't crack, the punishment will go to me. Marcus's hand lashes out and grips my forearm, pulling me down until we are face to face, "What do you think you're doing? Did I give you permission to clean that up?!"_

“So it would seem,” Four says.

“And you aren’t interested.”

“I haven’t been interested for two years.”

“Well,” says Eric. “Let’s hope he gets the point, then.” He claps Four on the shoulder, a little too hard, and gets up. When he walks away, I slouch immediately. I had not realized that I was so tense.

“Are you two…friends?” I say, unable to contain my curiosity.

“We were in the same initiate class,” he says. “He transferred from Erudite. Stay away from him.” All thoughts of being careful around Four leave me, now I am angry again, how dare he think he has a right to boss me around.

"Why should I?"

“I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions,” he says coldly. “Now I’ve got Stiffs, too?” The slur stings, I don't know why, but coming from him, hearing my own big brother insult me hurts. 

“It must be because you’re so approachable,” I say flatly. “You know. Like a bed of nails.” He stares at me, and I don’t look away. He isn’t a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It’s my choice. Heat rushes into my cheeks and eyes, I hope they do not shine with tears, unless they are tears of rage. 

Tobias calmly watches me, and when it looks like he might doing something he changes his mind. He just says, “Careful, Tris.” My stomach drops like I just swallowed a stone.

"Mazor. My name is Mazor."

A Dauntless member at another table calls out Four’s name, "Mazor," Four answered leaving the table and I turn to Christina. She raises both eyebrows.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m developing a theory.”

“And it is?”

She picks up her hamburger, grins, and says, “That you have a death wish.”

* * *

 

 

After dinner, Four disappears without a word. Eric leads us down a series of hallways without telling us where we’re going. I don’t know why a Dauntless leader would be responsible for a group of initiates, but maybe it is just for tonight. At the end of each hallway is a blue lamp, but between them it’s dark, and I have to be careful not to stumble over uneven ground. Christina walks beside me in silence. No one told us to be quiet, but none of us speak. Eric stops in front of a wooden door and folds his arms. We gather around him. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Eric,” he says. “I am one of five leaders of the Dauntless. We take the initiation process very seriously here, so I volunteered to oversee most of your training.” The thought makes me nauseous. The idea that a Dauntless leader will oversee our initiation is bad enough, but the fact that it’s Eric makes it seem even worse.

“Some ground rules,” he says. “You have to be in the training room by eight o’clock every day. Training takes place every day from eight to six, with a break for lunch. You are free to do whatever you like after six. You will also get some time off between each stage of initiation.” The phrase “do whatever you like” sticks in my mind. At home, I could never do what I wanted, not even for an evening. I had to think of Marcus's needs first. I don’t even know what I like to do. “You are only permitted to leave the compound when accompanied by a Dauntless,” Eric adds. “Behind this door is the room where you will be sleeping for the next few weeks. You will notice that there are ten beds and only nine of you. We anticipated that a higher proportion of you would make it this far.”

“But we started with twelve,” protests Christina. I close my eyes and wait for the reprimand. She needs to learn to stay quiet.

“There is always at least one transfer who doesn’t make it to the compound,” says Eric, picking at his cuticles. He shrugs. I am surprised he didn't get angry at the disruption. “Anyway, in the first stage of initiation, we keep transfers and Dauntless-born initiates separate, but that doesn’t mean you are evaluated separately. At the end of initiation, your rankings will be determined in comparison with the Dauntless-born initiates. And they are better than you are already. So I expect—”

“Rankings?” asks the mousy-haired Erudite girl to my right. “Why are we ranked?”

Eric smiles, and in the blue light, his smile looks wicked, like it was cut into his face with a knife. “Your ranking serves two purposes,” he says. “The first is that it determines the order in which you will select a job after initiation. There are only a few desirable positions available.” My stomach tightens. I know by looking at his smile that something bad is about to happen. “The second purpose,” he says, “is that only the top ten initiates are made members.” Pain stabs my stomach. We all stand still as statues.

And then Christina says, “What?”

“There are eleven Dauntless-borns, and nine of you,” Eric continues. “Four initiates will be cut at the end of stage one. The remainder will be cut after the final test.” That means that even if we make it through each stage of initiation, six initiates will not be members. I see Christina look at me from the corner of my eye, but I can’t look back at her. My eyes are fixed on Eric and will not move. My odds, as the smallest initiate, as the only Abnegation transfer, are not good. Tobias made it. I can make it.

“What do we do if we’re cut?” Peter says.

“You leave the Dauntless compound,” says Eric indifferently, “and live factionless.”

The mousy-haired girl clamps her hand over her mouth and stifles a sob. I remember the factionless man with the gray teeth, snatching the bag of apples from my hands. His dull, staring eyes. But instead of crying, like the Erudite girl, I feel colder. Harder. I will be a member. I will.

“But that’s…not fair!” the broad-shouldered Candor girl, Molly, says. Even though she sounds angry, she looks terrified. “If we had known—”

“Are you saying that if you had known this before the Choosing Ceremony, you wouldn’t have chosen Dauntless?” Eric snaps. “Because if that’s the case, you should get out now. If you are really one of us, it won’t matter to you that you might fail. And if it does, you are a coward.” Eric pushes the door to the dormitory open. “You chose us,” he says. “Now we have to choose you.”

* * *

 

The bathrooms and the dorm are all connected, there is no wall or door to separate them. When we go to the loo everyone will be able to see and hear and watch. This tactic is to build confidence and tear down shame. I don't know how else to describe it. The thought of taking a shower naked and boys seeing me though, does make me uncomfortable. I will have to get over it. As long as they don't make a move...

_A large hand fondeled my right breast, I froze in fear, Marcus was drunk. "You look so much like your mother, Beatrice..."_

_You said my name. You said my name. Why did you have to say my name? Your coherent. You know what your doing. It's wrong._

I lie in bed and listen to nine people breathing. I have never slept in the same room as a boy before, but here I have no other option, unless I want to sleep in the hallway. Everyone else changed into the clothes the Dauntless provided for us, even I managed to--laughing at Christina and Molly when they forced the boys to turn around and not look.

I am used to sleeping in silence. Heat swells behind my eyes as I think of home, and when I blink, a tear slips out. I cover my mouth to stifle a sob. I can’t cry, not here. I have to calm down. _I am safe._ I can look at my reflection whenever I want. _He won't touch me ever again._ I can befriend Christina, and cut my hair short (  _"She wore her hair just like this as well,"_ )  , and let other people clean up their own messes. My hands shake and the tears come faster now, blurring my vision.

I match my inhales to the inhales of the other initiates, and my exhales to their exhales. It doesn’t matter. A strangled sound interrupts the breathing, followed by a heavy sob. Bed springs squeal as a large body turns, and a pillow muffles the sobs, but not enough. They come from the bunk next to mine—they belong to a Candor boy, Al, the largest and broadest of all the initiates. He is the last person I expected to break down. His feet are just inches from my head. I should comfort him—I should want to comfort him, because I was raised that way. Instead I feel disgust.

Someone who looks so strong shouldn’t act so weak.

Why can’t he just keep his crying quiet like the rest of us? I swallow hard. If my mother knew what I was thinking, I know what look she would give me. _The corners of her mouth turned down. Her eyebrows set low over her eyes—not scowling, almost tired. "Your father didn't mean it. It was an accident. Come to bed Bee."_

_"Will you tell me the story about the Dauntless Leader Mazor who fell in love with the Dauntless-turned-Abnegation Leader?"_

I drag the heel of my hand over my cheeks.

Al sobs again. I almost feel the sound grate in my own throat. He is just inches away from me—I should touch him. No. I put my hand down and roll onto my side, facing the wall.

No one has to know that I don’t want to help him. I can keep that secret buried. My eyes shut and I feel the pull of sleep, but every time I come close, I hear Al again. I am not home sick. I am free. I will not loose and return to Marcus. The thought makes me grit my teeth. I gather the pillow around my ears to block out Al’s crying, and fall asleep with a circle of moisture pressed to my cheek.


End file.
